


Christmas Vacation

by fadeverb



Series: Kai and Mannie [11]
Category: In Nomine
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-16
Updated: 2013-08-16
Packaged: 2017-12-23 17:48:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,621
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/929344
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fadeverb/pseuds/fadeverb
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kai and Mannie go to Russia, but only for the ballet.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Christmas Vacation

All through the performance Mannie's waiting for her to start fidgeting, but she sits still, watching, nothing more than an occasional flicker of her fingers, as if she's mapping out the moves somewhere deeper than a vessel can account for. (They had to borrow appropriate clothing for Kai, warm enough and fancy enough for the venue. Three hours later, it's still strange that she's wearing a dress, elegant shoes, her hair pulled back into a neat braid. The earrings, though, little rainbow-copper cut-outs of stars, those seem appropriate.)

At the intermission, he leans over and asks, "Did you want to step outside for a few minutes?" Stretch your legs and dance. But she shakes her head.

"I wouldn't want to miss anything." Her fingers go tap-tap-tap on her legs, and in the rhythm he catches one of the refrains from the piece they've been watching. "I didn't get you a Christmas present again."

"I told you before that I don't need one." He'd like to put his hand to hers, but he wouldn't for the world stop that movement once it's started. "If you'd like, consider this your present to me." He means: _time keeps moving, it's the one resource we can never regrow, and time with you is something I know is finite, we are all finite. There will come a day when one of us is gone, and dear God let it be me, but for now I will take the time you choose to give me._

"Now _that_ doesn't make any sense," Kai says, but she settles a little closer to him, and that's all he wanted.

When the performance is done, she speaks of art. He doesn't understand most of it, the tropes and themes and tunes and moves, all the technical vocabulary for ballet and music. That isn't important. What matters is that she spins in front of him as they walk, even in those shoes that can't be made for easy movement, and she smiles at him.

He meant to stop at one of the cafes that cater to this post-performance crowd, but she's moving now, unlikely to want to sit. Instead he finds a place that will sell them hot coffee in disposable cups, with or without a shot of vodka to keep them warm. The man tending the stand leers briefly at Kai, in a friendly manner. "You got an American girlfriend?" he asks, as he makes their drinks.

Mannie nods, simpler than trying to explain.

"They're pretty," the man says, "and not a bad idea, I had one once. They always want more, but they're nice, aren't they? If you can keep them happy!" He laughs, and passes over the drinks. In English, he says to Kai, "Thank you. Have a nice day!"

"I should learn Russian," Kai says, between sips. She keeps her balance perfectly on snow-covered sidewalks, one slick shoe after another without any hesitation. "It's a pretty language. What was he saying?"

"Nothing important." He sticks to the well lit areas, finds himself reassured when she makes no sign of wanting to explore off the beaten path. There's a faint, distant rumble of disturbance. She doesn't hear it, and he chooses not to mention it. This isn't a night for tracking down trouble. "It's changed since I was here last."

"That many years... Does anything look the same?" She tucks her hand into his, gloves to gloves. It's still a connection. "I'd think the streets would be the same, they don't usually change how those go, but I'm not sure if you can tell when all the buildings on them have changed."

"Some of the buildings are the same." He can make out along the skyline ones he recognizes, and ones that could never have been built with the technology of that time. "It's very different, yes. Cars instead of sleighs, neon lights, the billboards advertising American candy bars..." Not the people, though. Different governments, different technology, and the people are still the same. The woman who strides past them, arguing into her cell phone, could be one of the stern young wives he met at university functions with their arms tucked firmly into those of their professorial husbands. She Needs enough money to have her daughter's cleft palate fixed. The boy across the street who kicks snow into a gutter, hands in his pockets, could be any of the children who used to run past the house shouting in warmer weather. He Needs a puppy for Christmas, someone who will love him most. The humans never change.

"Where did you live? If you remember, and can point it out from here..."

Mannie turns, gets his bearings. Gestures with the hand that holds the coffee, not daring to let go of her in case she might skip off in that direction. "Over there. The house is probably long since torn down. There's more money to be made in that area with higher density buildings now." He takes another sip of hot coffee to distract himself from memories. "We only spent some of the time in the city. The real work was done in the lab on the estate, further out, but we maintained a residence closer in for Role reasons, and other...matters of utility."

"You and Hari." He's reminded that she knows more of his history than he'd like. More than he'd wish on any creature he loves. The past can't be changed, only atoned for, and time keeps flowing downhill towards inevitable conclusions.

"Hari and I," he says, her hand tight in his. "And my, ah, sons. No Force-children of mine, but two gremlins with Roles as my children." He can dimly recall their faces, one sly and the other afraid as Hari stood over them, telling them to be careful with their destructive urges. Never fledge as Calabim, little boys, or the Genius Archangel will rip you apart and use your Forces for someone more useful, who knows how to behave.

"Whatever happened to them?"

"I don't remember. I believe they fled with everyone else when we had that exceptionally, ah, pointed discussion with Lightning. They've probably fledged by now, if they're still alive." They're still walking, in and out from the patches the streetlights illuminate. Bright and dark and bright and dark through the snow, but she's always at his side. "Role-building so that we could take over their Roles once our current ones were too old. I volunteered to let them be my children, in hopes of scaring away those aggressive young ladies near the university."

"Did it work? Scaring away the women." Kai kicks at the snow, nearly skipping at his side, no matter that her dress is too elegant for such movement. Ofanim pay little attention to such matters.

"Mostly. There was this one daughter of a professor--she was very clever for a human--who thought this meant I needed a wife to take my children in hand and teach them to behave." He can still see her face sometimes. Square-jawed with a hooked nose, never beautiful, but when he spoke with her father about physics and engineering, she sat quietly with her sewing by the fire and listened, understood. "I finally married her, to settle the matter, and because her father was a useful man who very much wished to have his daughter married to a gentleman."

"What happened to her, when you lost that Role?" Actual concern in Kai's voice now, not curiosity, and Mannie remembers that this burning wheel of fire who's taken human form beside him cares for the workings of all those individual humans who trudge from birth to death, not only humanity as a mass. Even the ones she's never met. 

"I don't know." He doesn't like to admit this. "We abandoned those Roles, and I don't know what Lightning did with them afterward. If she ever found out why her husband and adopted children disappeared. I don't know if the authorities ever found Hari's dead vessel, or... I don't know how that was resolved."

"They ought to have reports on it, back in the Halls of Progress," Kai says, and she looks up at him, hair white-dotted from the snow drifting down. "You've never looked into it?"

"No," Mannie says. "I never did." He has enough to regret without finding new reasons to hate what he used to be.

She might have said more, but there's a car pulling up beside them, sleek and clean. Nosha steps out, a neatly-dressed young man who's acquired a furry hat from somewhere, and offers a polite bow. "Your car is ready."

"Your car," says Kai, and she grins at the Elohite. "You've been having too much fun, I can tell from here. Where did you get the hat?"

"It's a fabulous story," Nosha replies, and holds the back door open for both of them. "One full of action, adventure, and the triumph of good. I'll tell you later." He makes sure they both get into the back seat, and returns to the front, tilting the cap as if it were a chauffeur's before pulling away from the sidewalk again.

The back seat's warm and comfortable. Kai only shows the briefest look of regret at not being the driver before she's sprawled out across Mannie's lap, shoes kicked off and jacket tossed aside. "Home, James! Or, well, back to the Tether, Nosha. However works. Thanks for the ride."

"My pleasure," says the Elohite. He catches Mannie's gaze in the mirror, and smiles, not turning around.

The car takes the scenic route back, and Mannie watches out the window, snow falling on unfamiliar streets, Ofanite on his lap, fingers tangled with his. It's a long, slow drive back home.


End file.
